Postmodern Prometheus
by Tazo
Summary: There were things man was not meant to meddle with, not meant to know of. But what might force someone to steal fire from the gods? Can love turned to hatred force one to make a deal with the devil?
1. Chapter 1

Fic written for a challenge by MTS.

Hellsing and it's characters are owned by Kohta Hiraino

* * *

Walter raised his hand to knock on Seras' (Seras and Pip's?) room, when his fist was stopped by the sounds of shouting coming from the other end. He glanced at the chilled blood pack he had in a bucket and decided to come back at a later time.

He turned around and was about to walk down the hallway when he heard something slam into the door behind him and shatter.

* * *

"Do you think I enjoy being in a female body? Do you think I enjoy doing a total gender one-eighty?"

Seras cocked her head to the side and glared at the mirror. "Oh really? I thought you _loved_ my body?"

The reflection of Pip in the mirror scowled. "I _did_, but I didn't want to be _in_ your body… well… I did, but not like… you know what I mean!"

"So it was all about lust? You just wanted to get in my pants?"

Pip's reflection sputtered. "How can you say that? I _died_ for you!"

"You always bring that up! Every time we disagree, you wave that flag as if it somehow gave you the right to order me around for the rest of our lives! Captain, dying for me does not equal me being your eternal slave! This is my body we're both living in!"

Pip's reflection leaned back and he crossed his arms. "I'm starting to wonder if I liked you better when you were submissive."

Seras' eyes twitched. "How… but… you're the one who taught me to be strong! And now you!" She raised her arm, her hand curled into a fist. As her arm rocketed towards the mirror, she felt a sudden tightness around her bicep. A pull, and she found herself falling out of her chair onto her back. She (And through her, Pip), looked up to see Walter standing in the doorway, monofilament wire stretched out from his hand and wrapped around her arm.

"Far be it for me to interfere in your affairs, Captains Victoria and Bernadette, but I really must insist that you cease from breaking anything else. If you must, think of the job I must do cleaning up afterwards." A flick of Walter's wrist and the wires flew back into his hand. He stepped into the room, placed a bucket of ice with a blood pack in it on the table, bowed slightly, and left the room.

Seras pushed herself up, stared at the bucket of blood, turned around and glared at Pip's reflection in the mirror. She snorted. "I'm going to bed."

"Fine," Pip said.

"You're going to bed too," Seras responded.

"Sure. Shut me away. I could use some peace."

* * *

Walter placed the tea service on Integra's side. He poured a cup of tea and prepared it for Integra. Black, two sugars. 

"Thank you Walter," Integra said. Walter bowed slightly, then left Integra's immediate viewing field. Integra, however, sensed that Walter was still there. She looked up to see her butler standing calmly in front of the desk, hands clasped behind his back. "Was there something you wanted, Walter?"

Walter looked vaguely uncomfortable. Integra had noted that, after successfully freeing him from Millennium's mind control, Walter had become noticeably more brash. Integra had attributed this to his vampirization and subsequential "youth" effect. Still, despite this, his instincts as British butler remained firmly in place. Certain topics were still… difficult to broach.

"Allow me to take a guess. Is this about Captain Victoria and her rather 'intimate' relationship with Captain Bernadette?"

Walter nodded. "I do not wish to interfere in their personal lives, their relationship with each other is their business. However, I believe it has reached a level were it might have a detrimental effect on their ability to do their jobs."

Integra sipped at her tea. "Was there any specific event that set off this report?"

Walter looked uncomfortable again. "I would not normally wish to speak of another's affairs…"

"Walter."

Walter sighed. "I walked in on them fighting. And more than a heated argument or a shouting match, they were throwing things, an impressive feat when there is only one body between the two of them, I should add. Captain Victoria was on the verge of breaking a mirror before I stopped her."

Integra raised her eyebrows. "A mirror?"

"I believe that Miss Victoria sees Captain Bernadette in mirrors."

"Ahh. Well, this certainly is a problem. Though I suppose we should have seen it coming. I can't think of anyone that I could stand to be with for twenty-hours a day."

"As I understand it, Captain Victoria can 'repress' Captain Bernadette, but only once a day. And she is unable to control how long he stays repressed. Apparently he may just come back into her consciousness at any time."

"I'll take this into consideration. Is there anything else?"

Walter thought for a moment, then retrieved a letter from his vest pocket. "Another message for you. I believe it is from an anonymous Knight of the Round Table, demanding to know why you insist on keeping our prisoner."

Integra chuckled as she lit a cigar. "You think I should kill him, don't you?"

"My feelings are irrelevant, but yes. I think you should kill. Quite frankly, I think I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"There is still much he can tell us. I rather think it would be a grave mistake to kill off such a great potential source of knowledge."

"… As you wish, Sir Integra. Do try to get to bed soon." Walter bowed and left.

Integra returned to her paperwork. "I suppose you find the situation with Seras amusing?" She finally said.

Alucard emerged from the darkness, smirking. "Her first victim, and she shares her body with him? Eventually culminating in a fight between the two souls? How could one not be amused?"

"You feel no sympathy for your young fledgling at all?"

"She drank of my blood. She's no longer my concern. Besides, she brought it upon herself. She should have enslaved the Captain, _forced_ him to give her his strength."

"Not everyone is a monster like you, Alucard."

Alucard chuckled lightly. "Good. I prefer it that way."

Integra puffed on her cigar. "Is there any way that Seras could release the Captain? Let him pass on to the next world?"

"Not that I am aware of. When she took his soul into him, it was permanent. The soul cannot be released into the nothingness. Besides," he said, grinning, "Even if she could, would she?"

"You _do_ find this amusing," Integra said.

Alucard laughed as he melted into the blackness.

* * *

Seras stared up in the darkness of her coffin. Despite her attempts to fall asleep before Pip resurfaced, she was still very much awake when she felt his presence return. Unusually, he was quiet as he came back into Seras' mind. They could feel each other, but neither was speaking. 

Unfortunately, at this point the mere presence of the other was enough to get their nerves.

_I've been thinking_. Pip said finally.

_Yes?_ Seras responded.

_This has got to stop._

_Agreed._

_It's hurting both of us._

_And it's hurting our ability to command. The men don't trust us anymore. Someone could get killed._

_Which is why it has to stop._

_How, then?_

_... I was kind of hoping you knew how._

Seras rolled her eyes. _No. I'm afraid I don't. But I think I know who does._

* * *

The Prisoner didn't really mind most of his captivity. He didn't mind the fact that he was unable to move. Before being captured, he generally hadn't left his room unless his Füher ordered it. He was fed well enough, he was treated fairly courteously (though he suspected it was because the guards were mildly afraid of him), and the accommodations were not overly unpleasant. 

If there was one thing the Prisoner despised about his captivity, it was the boredom. The endless, tedious boredom. Not that there wasn't anything to do. Far from it. He was being held in a mansion with one of the finest private libraries in all of Europe, and they allowed him any book he could ask for.

The problem was, he had finished the entire library about a month and a half ago.

There he was, with all of his knowledge, his ideas, and his creativity, and he was locked in a cell and unable to do anything with it.

It was the boredom and the inability to _act_ on his genius that the Prisoner despised the most.

Now he sat in the darkness of his cell, his back against the wall, his knees against his chest, as he watched the shadowy form of the child coming towards him.

"Now, my _kinder_, to what do I owe this visit?" he said suddenly.

The shadowy figure paused in front of the cell. "We need your help," it said.

The Prisoner smiled. "I thought you would be coming down here about that sooner or later. Asking for my help. What makes you think I can help you?"

"Because of this," the shadowy figure answered in a deeper voice. It tossed a book through the bars, which landed at the Prisoners' feet. The Prisoner looked at the book. It was the one book he hadn't read in the library. The one book he refused to read. For the exact same reason that Sir Integra refused to read _Dracula_. Hers was not the only real family immortalized in literature.

The Prisoner laughed. "And what, exactly, do I get in return for helping you? How do you even know that your Master will allow it?"

"We will act as an intermediary on your behalf. We could argue for privileges for you. As for permission, we believe that Sir Hellsing will be willing to allow it to remedy this situation."

The Prisoner smirked in the darkness, the faint light from the over head lamp reflecting off of his multi-lensed glasses. "I suppose a request for a laboratory, or even a child's chemistry set is out of the question. I would settle for access to whatever remains of the London Public Library, or even membership in a book-of-the-month club."

"We will plead our case, then," the shadow figure said as they walked away from the cell down the corridor.

In the darkness outside of the cell, Walter watched as Seras and Pip walk away. He turned towards the cell, and watched as the Prisoner picked up the book, the book he refused to read, and opened it to the first page.

Mary Shelly's _Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus_.


	2. Chapter 2

Integra nodded and folded her hands. "I will consider it. You are dismissed, Captains."

Seras' face contorted for a moment, as if both minds had attempted to say something at the same time. Something sorted out and they managed to take turns.

"But Sir!"

"But Sir!"

Integra raised an eyebrow. Seras' mouth shut and s/he stood at attention. "I am still in command here, and I am not yet convinced that the procedure will fix things. Nor am I still completely sure your benefactor can be trusted. I will notify you when my decision has been made. Dismissed."

Seras (Pip?) saluted and left the room.

Integra lit her cigar and puffed at it thoughtfully. "Well?" she said finally.

"You know my feelings, Sir Integra," Walter said. "The man cannot be trusted."

"I don't know," Alucard said, "It might be interesting."

"Is such a thing even possible, Alucard?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. Frankenstein knows more about vampires and vampirism than I do."

Integra raised an eyebrow at Alucard's comment.

"You are a human, Master, but can you tell me everything about how the human body functions? Can you tell me, for example, how the digestive system works? How the liver, the kidneys, the stomach, the intestines, all work exactly, down to the cellular level? I can't. I haven't studied it. My business is warfare, his business his science and understanding. If you truly want my advice, Sir Hellsing, I would say let him do it."

Integra puffed at her cigar for a few more moments. "Is it possible that you merely advocating this because you believe he may be able to make you even more powerful than before?"

Alucard remained silent.

"It had not escaped my notice that you have been researching black magic, Alucard. Was your battle with "Her" so humiliating?"

Alucard's eyes narrowed. "I can hardly consider myself an adequate weapon if I need assistance of any sort."

"Nevertheless, you did, laddie," an accented voice said as Anderson stepped out of the shadow he was lurking in. "And as much as I hate to admit it, the abomination is right. We could always used another hand around here, and the Captain is quite skilled."

Integra smirked for a moment. "This is an unprecedented event. If we hadn't already gone through it, I might suggest that the Apocalypse was nigh." She stubbed out her cigar and looked at the three men standing in front of her desk. The vampire king who had been captured by her ancestor years ago to serve them. The servant who had been captured, turned into a vampire, and returned to them. The Priest who had forsaken all for his creed, had been excommunicated, and sought refuge with his enemy.

"So, I have two yays and one nay."

"Of course, the decision ultimately lies with you, Sir Integra," Walter said.

Integra pushed back from her desk and stared at her ceiling thoughtfully. "I'll allow it. But I want Walter to be present during all of Frakenstein's activities. If he attempts any foul play, you have my permission to decapitate him."

Walter nodded curtly and the corners of his mouth ticked upwards slightly at the idea.

"Dismissed," Integra said.

* * *

_Click click click_.

The Prisoner looked up at the sound of shoes walking along the long corridor. He smiled languidly. "Ah, Butler. Just in time. I was thinking an A positive for tonight. I know that it's common, but there are times when one feels the need for something common."

Walter stared down his nose at the Prisoner, a look of utter disgust on his face. "I have a message from Sir Integra."

The Prisoner smiled and drew his knees up to his chest. "Yes, Butler? I am all ears."

"…She has decided to permit the operation that will separate Captains Bernadette and Victoria into different bodies. You may have whatever materials, equipment, and personnel you require."

The Prisoner waved a hand. "I require no personnel. They will only get in the way." He slid a piece of paper across the floor where it stopped, just brushing the bars. "That is what I require."

Walter knelt down and picked up the paper. "How did you?"

The Prisoner held up the copy of Mary Shelly's book. The front page was ripped out. "It was a trite and over-romantacised account anyway," he said, tossing the book into the center of the cell. "Sir Hellsing would be better without it."

"And for a writing utensil?"

The Prisoner started laughing. "Ask me no questions," he said, "and I will tell you no lies."

Walter's hand suddenly shot out and microfilament wires wrapped around the Prisoner. A quick yank and the Prisoner flew from his seated position and slammed into the bars. Walter bent over and stared into the Prisoner's face.

"Do you want to kill me, Butler? Do you desire revenge for what I did to you? Kill me, then. It will only prove the Major right. He said that eventually we wouldn't need to put blocks on you at all. That you would come to love the killing as we did. He saw it in you. Prove him right! Start the killing again!"

Walter grunted and let the wires go slack. As he collected them, he stared into the reflective planes of the Prisoner's glasses. "I am to watch over all your work. Every aspect, every stitch, every screw, every microchip. And if you hurt either of those children, your life is forfeit." He turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Oh Butler? Could I have a nice Merlot served with my blood tonight? I find that it helps offset the taste of the transfusion!"

* * *

Anderson grumbled as he rolled up his sleeve. "Does the prat know how difficult is for me to give blood?"

Walter shrugged as he started to wipe Anderson's arm with antiseptic.

"There's no point in doing that," Anderson said. "I can't get sick."

"It's not for you," Walter said as he stuck the needle in. "It's to keep the sample pure." He drew the blood and tried to pull the needle out. To his complete and utter lack of surprise, it was stuck tight.

Anderson sighed. "The skin healed around the needle again, didn't it?"

* * *

The shovel clanked as it hit the hard wood of the coffin.

"Does anyone besides me find this just a little creepy?" a soldier asked, as he leaned on his shovel and wiped his brow.

"What, digging up the Cap's body so that we can put him back into it?"

"Yeah. That. That's really creepy."

The other Wild Geese member shrugged and continued digging. "Well, it does seem kind of unnatural, but what is natural around this crazy place?"

"Yeah, but it's a good kind of unnatural," his buddy replied as he jumped back into the pit. "I mean, _our_ kind of unnatural, naturally unnatural. Like Big Red or the girly."

"Well what about that reject from the Vatican? He's not naturally unnatural, is he?"

"Yeah, but have you seen that bloke drink? Man who drinks like that can't be all bad."

The mercenary glanced over and Seras(Pip?) who was standing a few meters off, watching out for roving vampires. They had steadfastly avoided looking at the grave ever since their arrival.

"Wonder what's going on inside that pretty little head?"

"Can't be good," the other mercenary replied. "Oy, put the rope under this thing!"

"I guess it can't be," his friend replied as he ran a rope under the coffin. "Otherwise we wouldn't be out here."

"Shame really. I mean, they used to be in love, right?"

"You were there. Same as me. He died for her. He _died_ for her. I mean, I knew he had a noble streak, but I dunno if I saw that coming."

"And she gave up her humanity to save him. If that's not love I don't know what is. What happened to 'em?"

The mercenary sighed. "Dunno. Maybe… maybe it's because they're soldiers. During crisis, or tragedy, is when they are at their absolute best. And during peace…?" He shook his head. "C'mon. Radio the other soldiers so we can lift this thing out."

* * *

Seras lay in her coffin, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

_So, I'll take the night shift?_ Seras said.

_Yep._ Pip answered. _You command them during the night. I command them when the sun's out. _

_And thus we don't have to deal with each other ever again if we don't want to._

_Exactly. Why would we anyway?_

They were silent for a while.

_Last night together._ Pip finally said.

_No more of your unreasonable and ridiculous demands._

_No more of your incessant, non-stop whining. Honestly any more angst out of you and I'm going to lose my metaphorical lunch._

_Thank you very much. You try living with someone who's main goal is to have sex with you. Or mind sex. Or whatever. I mean, honestly do you even **think**__of anything else? I am not a whore that you bought with your life!_

_I do **not** think about sex all the time! I merely suggested that we should **try, **because you might **like** it and it'd be something we could enjoy together! You're so bloody immature and frightened of sex! Aren't you ever going to get over what they did to your mother?_

_I don't believe you! You're just a heartless mercenary when all the chips are down, aren't you? Nothing worth fighting for but the almighty coin? Scum of the earth that don't care for anything beyond their arses and their dicks? Bloody uncaring French man-whore!_

_Shove it, you whiny, sexually frustrated, English sow!_

_English sow? Now you have to steal you insults from Enrico Maxwell? Are you **that** pathetic?_

_In the words of your countrymen, cherie, sod off._

Silence again.

_Well?_ Pip finally said.

_Well what?_

_Aren't you going to shove me off into the little box somewhere and try to fall asleep before I come back so you can get a good night's sleep?_

_I thought I'd be nice and let you stay out of the box tonight, seeing as it's the last night and all. Unless you particularly want some time to yourself?_

_I'll suffer, thank you. What a benevolent gesture on your part. For an unholy, damned, bloodsucking freak, your certainly are generous._

_

* * *

_

Walter found it particularly disconcerting when the Prisoner hummed as he worked. He was finishing up the final touches on Captain Bernadette's skull and had been humming the same tune repeatedly for the past hour.

Walter couldn't, for the life of him, place it, but something about it sent chills up his spine.

"It's the tune I hummed while I was working on you," the Prisoner suddenly said. "It probably seeped it's way into your subconscious. I doubt you remember, due to the mental blocks. So sad that I never got to finish them. Then again," he said as he turned to Walter. "Did I really need to?"

Walter scowled. "Get back to work."

The Prisoner smiled and resumed stitching. "Oh Victor," he said. "How flawed your procedure was. But your theory, yes, your _theory_ was sound. Your _theory_ was genius. I will do wondrous things with your theory. After all, 'I only see far because I have stood on the shoulders of giants'".


	3. Chapter 3

"Butler?"

Walter winced. He was convinced that Frankenstein didn't actually know his real name, or had ever actually remembered it. It was always Butler. Ever since he had crashed through the Major's window, it was always Butler to them.

Though, as he thought about it, it made sense. Millennium referred to themselves by their titles. It was the Major, the Captain, and the Doctor, not Montana Max, Hans Gunche, or Boris Frankenstein. They viewed people by what they were, not by who they were.

"Butler!"

Walter snapped to attention as Frankenstein's complaining grew more incessant.

"It's time, Butler. Affix the lightning rods and send someone to get the kinder."

Lightning flashed outside, silhouetting him against the window. The light reflect off his glasses, making him seen him seem even more deranged than usual.

It was so much like an old horror movie to be almost laughable.

And yet, somehow, the clichéd image sent a tremor down Walter's spine.

* * *

Integra sat up in the observation room and puffed on her cigar. It felt a bit odd, sitting where Abraham, Michael, and Arthur, had all sat before.

She still wasn't sure if Abraham wasn't standing right next to her.

It felt like a perversion to let Frankenstein do his work in it.

"I must say Anderson, I was rather surprised that you agreed to this," she said.

"Oh?" the burly ex-priest answered.

"I would have thought that you would have found such a thing unnatural and against God."

He shrugged. "They're both already against God. If they wish to further ingratiate themselves with the Devil, that's their own lookout."

Integra raised her eyebrows in a gesture of amusement. She glanced to the other side at Alucard. "What are they talking about?" she asked.

"Either they are being silent, or they don't wish for me to listen to in," he responded.

"They might be blocking you? Is that possible?"

"Certainly. Even a human could do it, if they tried. The brain isn't something that can be just cracked open and perused at one's leisure. Even when a person isn't actively trying to block me, say they don't notice my intrusion, I can only read what's on the surface. The human mind is far too chaotic for anyone to hope to intrude."

* * *

Walter wiped his monocle on his sleeve. Frankenstein would not allow anyone else to touch his equipment. Walter supposed it was a mark of respect that he actually allowed anyone to touch his equipment at all.

Still, it did mean Walter got some of the least fun jobs.

He glanced down into the opening where Seras and Pip's bodies were laying on flat slabs. He idly wondered what they were thinking. He wondered if this was a safe idea.

Well, no. He didn't wonder if this was a safe idea. He _knew _this wasn't a safe idea. Perhaps he was wondering if that's what Pip and Seras were wondering right now.

He knelt down, swung into the opening and dropped down to the laboratory beside Seras' body.

What was going through their minds, he wondered. He glanced up at Frankenstein, who was scribbling something on a pad of paper he had attached to a clipboard.

What was going through, _his _mind?

* * *

What was going on through his mind could be written down, but no one would be able to understand it. It was beyond 98 percent of the world's population.

At most it would seem to be a random stream of consciousness of numbers, scientific terms, and general babble. Chaotic, seemingly random.

But in reality there was nothing random about it. Nothing at all.

In reality, there was a cold, frightening purpose to it all.

* * *

If they had known that they were capable of blocking Alucard's intrusions, they certainly would have, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Because Alucard's first guess was right. They were silent. No good-byes, no talking of how much they'd be better off without other. Just silence.

Neither knew what to say.

* * *

It looked just like it did in the movie. Both bodies were raised up into the rainy night, with Frankenstein and Walter riding up with them. Then the flash of bright light, arcing electricity, and both slabs were lowered to the ground.

Walter and Frankenstein undid the straps and Pip and Seras stood up the from the slabs. Pip took a moment to feel his face, making sure it was his, feeling the scars that had been left by the procedure.

They stared at each other for a long time.

Walter stepped in and nodded to Pip. "We've restored your room to just as you left it, Captain Bernadette. "

Pip nodded, glanced at Seras one more time, then followed Walter out of the lab.

Seras stood there, with her eyes up towards the rainy sky. She seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance until Frankenstein touched her on the shoulder. She recoiled, glaring at him, and left the lab.

* * *

Integra stabbed her cigar out in an ash tray, the rising smoke giving the atmosphere a sultry feel.

"Thoughts?" she said.

"Shame things are so sour between them," Anderson said.

Integra could practically _hear _Alucard's grin. "You find it amusing, don't you?" she asked.

"She's reaping what she sowed. There are consequences to taking a willing soul into you."

"Regardless," Integra said, "I was referring to Dr. Frankenstein."

"Difficult to say," Alucard said. "Reading that man's mind is somewhat like a dog trying to talk to a human. It's beyond even me."

Anderson smirked. "It must hurt your pride to admit it."

"Not at all. Science, as I said, is hardly my area of expertise."

Integra stared thoughtfully at the Doctor as he cleaned up after himself . She had arranged to meet his price.

She couldn't help but feel there was a hidden fee somewhere.

* * *

"Gray! Add some more weight!"

The mercenary looked at his Captain. "Are you out of your mind? You're already doing twice what you've ever done!"

Pip glanced at the weights on the bar. "Huh. I am. Barely feel it." He put the bar back in the rest and stood up off the bench. He walked around behind the equipment, placed on hand on the bar, and picked it up effortlessly.

"…What the hell is going on?"

* * *

"Is there something you weren't telling us?" Integra asked, calmly.

Pip opened his mouth to say something when Walter suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up Walter's arm, where the butler's expression clearly said that he should shut the hell up and let Sir Integra handle this.

"Ahhh," Dr. Frankenstein said, putting his book down. "The ultra mortis has begun then?"

"Ultra… mortis?" Pip said.

Dr. Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you familiar with rigor mortis?"

"Er…"

Frankenstein sighed. "When the body dies, the muscles eventually stiffen, in a process called rigor mortis. The process the muscles go through when a dead body goes back to life with the Frankenstein process is called 'ultra mortis', although it's a rather misleading name. Suffice to say, you are stronger. You are faster. You are smarter. You require less food, you need less sleep. You are, in essence, better. Better than you were when you where a pathetic human, better than the creature my ancestor created so many years ago. Still," he said as he picked up his book, "you are hardly my masterpiece in this regard."

"The Captain," Walter said suddenly.

Frankenstein continued to read his book, but answered Walter anyway. "Exactly. No vampire he. Alucard killed him. I had to rebuild everything after we captured his soul. Well, almost rebuild him. I couldn't quite figure out how to repair his vocal chords. Of course, I was quite surprised to learn that they hadn't atrophied from lack of use anyway."

Integra puffed on her cigar. "Are you saying Captain Bernadette is capable of going toe-to-toe with Alucard or Anderson now?"

"Of course not," Frankenstein said. He seemed annoyed by their continued presence. "The Captain had many… after market modifications. Now if there's nothing else, can I be left alone? I think I've figured out who killed Samuel Ratchett."

Integra puffed thoughtfully on her cigar for a moment longer, before turning on her heel and walking down the corridor, Walter and Pip following.

"No, he would never be able to beat Anderson or Alucard," Dr. Frankenstein said. A small remote slid down his sleeve and he flipped over and over in his hand as he read the book.

"But then again, he doesn't need to, does he?"


	4. Chapter 4

If memory serves, a movie is still allowed to be PG-13 if it has one use of the "f-word" in it. Therefore, I feel fairly safe keeping this story at the same rating.

As always, spoilers for the manga and a general disclaimer that I don't own Hellsing.

* * *

"I'll take two," Gray said as he threw his cards face up into the discard pile.

"Two for the loser," Michaels replied as he slid two fresh cards to Gray.

"I'm the bloody loser here," Pip grumbled. He put his entire hand down on the table.

"I fold."

"Not doing to well, eh Cap?"

"Side effect of dying, boys," Pip said as he leaned back in his chair and tipped his cowboy hat over his eyes. "Your luck goes straight to shit."

"Oh well, you know what they say," Gray said. "Unlucky in cards, lucky in-OW! Michaels!" He glared at his friend who was shaking his head furiously.

"Care to finish that, Gray?" Pip said coldly.

Realization struck Gray just as he turned towards Pip. The words caught in his mouth. "Uh… Unlucky in cards… lucky in roulette?"

Pip tilted his head to the side slightly. "Well, I'm afraid it's not true, I'm terrible at roulette." He leaned forward and grabbed his glass and downed what remained of his whiskey. "We need more drinks," he said. "My damn system negates most of the alcohol."

* * *

"So, what is it like?"

_Bloody new recruits_ Seras thought miserably. _Always full of stupid questions_

She wondered idly when it was exactly that she had gotten so cynical. It must have been the influence of… someone.

"Are you awake ma'am?"

Seras' eyes fluttered and she turned to the soldier who was pestering her. "I'm sorry, what it is it like being a vampire?"

The soldier, who's name was Benson if her tag was any indication, shook her head. "No, no, no. I mean, well, you know." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Seras sucked at a blood pack absentmindedly. "No. No I don't know."

Benson sighed. "You know. To have a man inside you!"

"I'm a virgin, Benson. That's why I'm a vampire." She hoped being surly and sarcastic would give the recruit the hint that she really didn't want to talk about this subject.

Unfortunately, Benson seemed to completely miss the point and plowed straight on. "I mean, you know, the Captain! Having his soul inside you! To be able to share every moment with someone. It sounds like the most intimate bond ever!"

Seras laughed mirthlessly. "Don't believe everything you hear. Who put you up to this? Was it Gray?"

"…Gray? The mercenary? No."

Seras rested her chin on her hand. "No, he's dumb but not suicidal. Who was it then?"

Benson blinked nervously. "Nobody asked me to do anything, ma'am. Someone on the night watch told me about the… thing. I was just curious."

Seras raised her eyebrows. "You're honestly just curious?"

Benson nodded meekly.

Seras sighed. "Then I'll tell you."

* * *

"And so, I died for her. Ya know? You were there! I died for her. I died for her!"

It turned out that Pip's new body _could_ get drunk. It just took an ungodly amount of alcohol.

Pip reached for another bottle of bourbon and started to drink it straight. He slammed it down on the table, shaking it slightly. "Ya know," he continued. "I really didn't mind dying. I mean, I expected to die young, that's… what happens in this business. But I figured, at least I get to die doing something good, right? I mean, dying so that someone else better than you can live, 'sa good thing, right?"

He either didn't notice or didn't care that half of his audience was sleeping. Gray's eyes were drooping as he wavered between consciousness and sleep's embrace. He nodded sleepily. "It was a good death, Cap. We were proud of you."

Pip nodded. "Yeah. Good death. And then, I woke up and it was like I hadn't died. And not only had I not died, I was with her. And I was always gonna be with her. And then…" he trailed off into French as he rested his head face down on his arm.

"What's that boss?" Gray said as he finally gave up fighting sleep. "You were talking in French again…" his eyes closed and he drifted into slumber.

Pip opened his good eye and straightened up. "I said that it was the best damn thing that ever happened in my short, miserable life. And I fucked it up beyond repair."

The problem was that the drunken effect lasted a good ten seconds before he sobered up. He sighed and stared at the remaining bourbon. "Well, a little more won't hurt." He grabbed the bottle and downed the remnants. He stood up, bottle in hand, and looked at his men. "I suppose I'd better get you two to bed, shouldn't I?

* * *

The absurdly tall woman felt someone pull on her sleeve. She looked down to see one of the relatively younger soldiers staring up at her. He nodded towards the slightly less tall, silent figure creeping out in front of them, scanning the horizon.

"Is it true what they say? That he used to be one of us?" the soldier asked.

The tall woman nodded. "He was. He was the best of us, then. But the best of us then wasn't good enough for the best of _them_ then. He lost. He died. But the Doctor brought him back, better than before. But at a cost."

"If he can't transform," another soldier said, "What good is he to us?"

The tall woman squinted angrily at him with her only remaining eye. "I won't have you talk about our superior officers in such a way, Gustav. And besides," she grinned. "He might hear you."

Gustav grinned, his teeth reflecting in the light of the full moon. "And if he does, Ilse? What can he do to me?"

Ilse turned her head to the side and was silent for a while. "You do not want to know. Believe me. You very much do not want to know. And it's 'Commander Max' to you." She turned back to staring out at their goal. "It is also worth mentioning that he is right behind you as well."

Gustav's eyes widened in absolute terror. He turned around and found himself in the full, intense, singular, concentrated stare of the creature known only as the Captain.

* * *

Pip slumped down the hallways of the Hellsing manor. He had put Gray and Jenkins into bed. They would be good and sober by the time the day shift rolled around.

He, on the other hand, wasn't sleepy at all. Damn part of being… whatever he was. Now he had a couple of hours to kill before he'd finally need sleep. Maybe he'd go off somewhere and be abjectly miserable.

Pip glanced to the door next to him. It led to one of the small dining rooms the troops used while on duty and waiting for a call.

"As good a place as any," he muttered. He slumped down next to the door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

* * *

"…So that's what it was like?"

Seras nodded, staring into the blood pack. "Yeah. That's what it was like." She looked up and smiled. "But I've ruined it by being an over-controlling bitch who wouldn't let him have a little autonomy. No use on dwelling on the past."

Benson reached out a hand and gently rubbed Seras' shoulder. "No, don't say that. It wasn't completely your fault."

Seras covered her face with a hand. "No. No it was. All my fault." She sniffed and looked up, blinking back the tears in her eyes. "It's something I'll have to learn to live with for… the rest of eternity." She glanced down at her wrist. "Anyway," she said, standing up. "I should probably check in with the troops. Make sure they're ready to go at a moment's notice and all."

She walked towards the door, hearing Benson stand up and start to follow her. She decided to risk it and wiped her eyes, not really caring what Benson thought of her at this point.

She pushed the door open and got a few steps before her foot kicked something. She turned around and stared at the wall next to the door. Pip was sitting there, smoking a cigarette, his hat tilted down before his eyes. His hand reached up and pushed his hat up as he locked eyes with her.

Out of the corner of her mind, Seras vaguely hear Benson come to the doorway, stop, and gasp.

Ever so slowly, Pip reached up and took the cigarette out of his mouth. Finally, he spoke. "You're wrong," he said.

Seras sniffed again. "Again? What have I done to offend you this time?"

Pip started to uncurl up. He looked around for a place to dispose of his cigarette, and settled for putting it out on his hand.

"You're wrong when you say that it was all your fault. It was mine. I forget that it was your body. I forgot that it was your life. I had no right to try and fight for control of it. It was, and always will be, yours. I had lost mine, and that should have been my cross to bear. I shouldn't have put it out on you."

Seras started to blink furiously, then gave up. The tears began to stream slowly down her face. "I don't accept that," she said. "I should have been more thoughtful of you. I should have realized that how hard it would be to be a passenger for the rest of your life."

Pip shook his head. "It doesn't matter if you accept it or not! It's the truth! I was a selfish bastard! I have a history of it!"

Seras shook her head. "I can't accept that. It wasn't all your fault… Give me the right to be a bitch too."

Pip gritted his teeth. "Alright. You have the right to be a stupid, angry, tomboyish, bitch who's more afraid of sex than of any nasty out there that goes bump in the night!"

"And you," Seras spat, "are a thoughtless, mildly sex obsessed, perverted son of a bitch who spent most of his life worrying more about a pound note than any other actual person!" She wasn't even trying to hold back tears any longer.

Benson would say later that if she had blinked she might have missed it. One moment, they were two of the most miserable emotional wrecks she had ever seen, staring at each other from over a short, but noticeable, no-man's land they seemed to carry with them everywhere they went.

The next moment, they were in each other's arms. Seras shaking as she sobbed into Pip's shoulder. Pip found himself being pushed backwards gently into the wall, letting it support his weight and through him, Seras'. He buried his head into her hair and didn't even bother trying to put up a front of not crying. The cigarette lay on the floor beside them, forgotten.

Benson tentatively stubbed out the cigarette. "I'll… just be going now then?"

* * *

"Quiet night," Alucard noted.

"Complaining?" Integra said as she lit a cigar. "Would you rather be out there amongst the carnage? What was the phrase you always used?"

"Dancing on the killing fields, Sir Integra," Walter said as he placed a cup of tea on Integra's desk.

Integra nodded. Alucard turned and smiled. "It is possible to have too much of warfare, Countess. Eventually one does get tired of risking everything." He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Somehow, the odds are always against you."

A nervous cough attracted everyone's attention to the office door. Benson stood there at rigid attention. She saluted quickly. "Captain Victoria wishes me to inform you that she will be calling in sick tonight."

A Meaningful Look was shared amongst those in the room.

"Call in sick?" Sir Integra asked. "Did she happen to say with what? Perhaps she drank some diseased blood? Or maybe ate some solid food by mistake?"

Benson stared straight ahead into space, as all soldiers are trained to do when lying to their superiors. "She didn't say sir. Only that she needed the time off."

Integra quietly smoked her cigar for a while, staring at the young soldier. "Very well," she said finally. "These things happen. Inform Commander Fargason that he will be operating with out Victoria. He'll know what to do."

Benson saluted and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Another significant glance was shared. Walter smiled contentedly. "Well, I'm glad that's cleared up." He began to drop cubes of sugar into Integra's tea. "I hope the atmosphere will be a little cheerier around the mansion now."

"Indeed," Integra said as she sipped at her tea. She glanced over at Alucard, who was gazing out the window at the full moon again. "Your thoughts, Count?"

Alucard turned around, his grin wider than before. "I was thinking you and I should sit down with Captain Bernadette and discuss his 'intentions'."

* * *

"Are they ready?"

"Yes sir. They merely await your command."

"Is _he_ ready?"

"Yes sir. It is the work of a moment to turn him."

"Will he know? Will he be like the Butler?"

"No. I had time. He will know. He will watch and witness every excruciating second."

"Good. Now go. Someone is coming. And the time is nigh."

* * *

Pip pulled another cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He inhaled deeply and let the smoke out in a plume in the air above him. He smiled, content with the world.

"You know, those are _really_ bad for you," Seras' voice said, floating up from where her head was resting on his chest.

Pip took another drag on his cigarette. "Not for me. My body processes them like it was air. Don't have the nicotine addiction or the minor high or anything."

"Then what's the point of smoking them?"

"I dunno. Habit, I guess. Maybe because they make me look cool."

"No they don't. I always thought the cigarette made you look like you were trying too hard to look cool."

Pip frowned. "Really? Tell me you like that hat at least."

Seras laughed and reached up to tousle his hair. "Yes. I liked the hat. I didn't like the cigarettes, but I liked the hat from the moment I saw you."

Pip closed his eye in remembrance, than burst out laughing.

Seras looked up, startled. "What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking of when we first met," Pip responded. "First thing I said when I saw you. Remember?"

Seras thought for a moment, then burst out laughing as well.

They looked at each other, grinning. "If you're a vampire," they said together, "I'm bloody Frankenstein's monster!"

* * *

Anderson walked calmly through the dungeon, dragging a steel chair behind him. He swiveled it around to face the last cell in the row and sat down.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, may you be forgiven for your sins and find your path to everlasting-"

"Spare me," Doctor Frankenstein said. He marked his page in the book and leaned forward, placing it beside him. "You can't pretend to me, priest. You may be officially defrocked and serving the Hellsing, but you cannot fool me. You are still serving your God and your Pope. You serve them with your betrayal. And you serve them with your information."

"Be that as it may," Anderson said, "We need to have a chat, you and I."

The Doctor turned his head to the side slightly. "And what would we be talking about?"

"About what you did to the boy. About what you could do to improve our regeneration technology." He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. "About where the rest of Millennium is."

While he couldn't quite see him in the dark, Anderson got the definite impression that the Doctor was smiling. "Oh, those are easy enough questions, Father Anderson. For the first one, I did exactly what I said I would. I brought him back to life." He picked the book back up and started to leaf through it, as if looking for something. "As for the second, the idea intrigues me, but I must question what you can offer me in return?"

"Possibly a greater degree of freedom than you enjoy here. Perhaps absolution. These are not my concerns." His eyes flashed. "But do not expect that we will ever let you free. Your crimes are too great to go unpunished."

The Doctor stopped at a seemingly random page and marked it. "As for the third question. Well, they're everywhere, really." He looked up at Anderson as the light shone off of his multi-lensed glasses. "I doubt you are looking correctly, though."

"Now what on earth does that mean?" Anderson asked.

"So many important bodies never found, eh? The Captain's and Schrödinger's were gone, though who could have survived the Heindenberg II crashing onto them? Enrico's body gone as well. Very mysterious. But that is irrelevant, yes? You found the important body, didn't you? You found the Major's body. You yourself found it, Father Anderson. However, I do have to ask you one important question. If I may quote?" He held up the book. _Dracula_ was written on its spine. The Doctor flipped it open to his marked page. "'Where did the blood go?'" he said, snapping the book shut.

He looked up at Anderson and smiled. As he spoke, his voice changed tone, pitch, and cadence. This was no longer a psychotic scientist with a god complex. No. This was a different voice. An authoritative voice. A voice used to giving commands. And a voice used to having them answered.

"Where did the blood in his body go, Father Alexander Anderson? It had to go somewhere. Where. Did. It. Go?"

Anderson's eyes widened. "No!" he shouted, springing to his feet and reaching for his blessed blades.

The Prisoner smiled and flicked his wrist. A remote came sliding down his sleeve. His finger hit the button.

"Now."

* * *

Several things happened at once.

An explosion rocked the compound as plastique detonated near the walls of the compound.

Windows smashed in as waves of soldiers poured in.

The walls themselves in Integra's office were torn away as a tall figure shot out from the darkness.

And in a small, dark room where two lovers quietly lay together, Pip's eyes snapped open wide.


End file.
